


Muss yr Makeup Up

by honey_wheeler



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:34:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7111918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honey_wheeler/pseuds/honey_wheeler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t meant to grab her bum in front of everyone, which makes his mother’s lecture sting all the more, since he knows she’s right. If he’d done it purposefully, at least he could own it. Instead he let himself absently palm her arse – worse, he’d given it a good, long, emphatically carnal squeeze – and hadn’t even really realized he was doing it until Arya said “Robb, ew,” and his mother’s look at him would have killed him where he stood if she were capable of such a thing. It’s a strange thing, coming back home as a man to the home you left as a boy. It’s as if they all expected him to stand still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muss yr Makeup Up

**Author's Note:**

> From the valar_morekinks kinkmeme for Robb/Arianne with [this picture](http://37.media.tumblr.com/9d880bab54f060054f7bafb9ddd278f6/tumblr_n1e6zlzAB01s5p0vso1_500.gif)

Robb's ears are still ringing from his mother's scolding -- a scolding, like he's still a bloody child! -- as he climbs the stairs to his old bedroom in the attic. Even after three flights he can hear her clipped, icy tones, admonishing him to behave and keep his hands to himself around guests.

How he's bloody well supposed to do that when Arianne has the most delectable arse he's ever touched is beyond him.

He hadn't meant to grab her bum in front of everyone, which makes his mother's lecture sting all the more, since he knows she's right. If he'd done it purposefully, at least he could own it. Instead he let himself absently palm her arse -- worse, he'd given it a good, long, emphatically carnal squeeze -- and hadn't even really realized he was doing it until Arya said "Robb, ew," and his mother's look at him would have killed him where he stood if she were capable of such a thing. It's a strange thing, coming back home as a man to the home you left as a boy. It's as if they all expected him to stand still. Maybe part of it is that his mother isn't quite sold on Arianne. She'd probably had in mind a sweet, homey girl for him, someone kind and pragmatic and tidy. Arianne isn't tidy at all, God bless her. Not in her personality, not in her habits. And certainly not in her body.

A body that's on tantalizing display as he walks into his boyhood bedroom and sees her bending over her suitcase, wearing only a pair of boyshorts that make him itch to take them off her with his teeth.

For the hundredth time, he marvels at his luck. It's not just that she has the most gorgeously lush body he's ever seen, let alone touched; it's how that extends to everything else about her. Everything about Arianne is lush, rich, earthy. Her smile, her smell, her brain, her heart. She's like a human tornado, wild and thrilling with a calm, serene center. So many things in Robb's life have been crazy for so long in ways he's never been able to control. Submitting to Arianne's distinctly sexual sort of crazy and indulging his desire for her have become something of an addiction.

"I think I forgot to pack my strapless bra," she says as she glances over her shoulder at him. Hastily he shuts the door. His is the only bedroom on this floor so no one should be walking by, but Robb knows he'll catch hell if Bran or, worse, Rickon caught sight of her nearly nude through the open door. He can only imagine the lecture he'd get then.

"Is that a problem?"

"Well, only if you think your mother would mind knowing a lot more about my nipples than she currently does." Robb winces. This whole introducing-your-girlfriend-to-your-parents thing is a lot trickier than he'd expected. The peril of being the oldest who's used to being thought infallible, he supposes.

"While I would enjoy that," he says, moving across the room and tugging her into his arms, "I think she would not. I already got a lecture."

Arianne frowns but still steps against his chest, sliding her arms around his waist. "About my nipples?"

"About your arse," he sighs. "Well, my hands on your arse, specifically." Arianne's frown turns into a feline smirk.

"Got an earful about that, did you?"

"The phrases 'At your sister's engagement party, for God's sake!' and 'What if your brother had seen?' were deployed. Can I help it that you have a bum that begs to be squeezed?" he demands, and she laughs, the sound brighter and more girlish that anyone would ever expect from her. Robb thinks it's that laugh, a sound so different from the throaty chuckle she usually makes, that made him fall in love with her.

"Could have been worse," she says helpfully. She nips at his lower lip and then bumps the tip of his nose with hers, another habit so girlish and charming that it always makes his heart seem to wobble. "At least it was over the clothes."

Robb grins at her. "Yeah, she'd have brought the house down around my ears if I'd done this." He pushes his fingers under the waistband of her knickers, sliding his hands down her bum until his fingertips hit the hem and then squeezing, pulling all that lush, yielding flesh up and squeezing with real relish.

"Mmm, might have been worth it." Arianne stretches up onto her tip toes with the upward motion of his hands, pressing herself against him more fully. She doesn't so much kiss him as brush his mouth with her own, her breath mingling with his as she tilts her head and slowly moves her parted lips over his. Robb kneads her bum, inhaling her gasp when he dips the fingers of one hand low between her legs to where she's already wet for him.

"She's only just met you. We have to save a few scandalous things for Sansa's wedding." His voice is raspy and low. Arianne recognizes the intent in it and nudges him back towards the bed. They've got hours before supper. When he sits and lies back on the mattress, Arianne straddles him immediately, leaning forward to kiss him with the tips of her breasts grazing his chest. He wishes he'd taken his shirt off before, but his hands are too busy going right back to her bum. Her lipstick feels sticky and heavy on his lips, rubbed off from her own. When she raises her head to look at him, dark hair falling around her face like a curtain, the sharp red color is smudged into the skin around her mouth, making her look soft and blurry and heartbreakingly young.

"I bet you fucked so many girls in here," she says. Her hips take up a rocking rhythm. It's more frustrating than effective through the thick material of his jeans but watching Arianne use him as something of a masturbatory tool is plenty on its own for the moment.

"Nope," he manages. "You're the first." As soon as he says it, he realizes it feels fitting. Right. Special. Arianne must feel it too, because her hips slow and she looks down on him with an odd, soft expression on her face. They've traded I-love-yous before. Still, Robb thinks that from now on, it'll sound different when they say it.

"Well," she says, recovering herself. "I better make it good then, hadn't I?"

God, he is one lucky fucking bloke. "If you insist," he grins.


End file.
